


Falling

by cloudyworld



Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-22
Updated: 2012-07-22
Packaged: 2017-11-10 11:05:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/465549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudyworld/pseuds/cloudyworld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's something anyone could see coming from miles away. Brendon and Dallon continue to get closer, but not everyone is pleased about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling

It’s so hot on the bus that they sit outside, sleeves rolled up, hair all in disarray, drinking.   
  
It’s the first time Dallon really looks at Brendon’s tattoo.   
  
He thinks the flowers are a nice touch, painted pretty colors over lean muscle and young bones. He doesn’t realize he’s tracing the petals until Brendon looks over at him.   
  
“I like it a lot. It’s very you.”   
  
Brendon smiles crookedly, sweat sticking to his forehead, the line of his jaw.   
  
He finds Brendon to be beautiful.   
  
\--  
  
He’s not too sure how he did it, but Brendon somehow splits his lip, sucking it into his mouth to hopefully stop the bleeding before it leaves scarlet red stains in his clothes.   
  
It was a joke at first, witty stage banter that he came up with on the spot.   
  
But then Dallon was walking towards him, bass still cradled in his hands.  
  
“Wanna kiss it better?”   
  
He finds himself moving the microphone out of the way as Dallon leans in, pressing their lips together, a mere second that sends his heart racing, his ears buzzing, girls all around them shrieking.   
  
Instinctively, he licks his lips, and Dallon smirks, dark and hot.   
  
Brendon’s a little in love with Dallon.   
  
\--  
  
Dallon thinks maybe he could write songs about how beautiful Brendon is.   
  
No one would ever see them but him, but he finds everything about Brendon fascinating. Not just the normal things people write songs about, either. Not just his eyes and his smile, though they deserve attention. The way he plays the piano with just enough pressure, instead. Or how he stands when he thinks no one’s looking at him. Including all the things he does on stage, Dallon could write forever.  
  
The words bleed out everywhere, in notebooks, on the backs of receipts, on old setlists.  
  
He can’t seem to get them to stop.   
  
\--  
  
Brendon twists his ankle and is required to rest for the whole day, even though the doctor advised him three weeks before walking on it again.   
  
“The show must go on,” he laughs from where he’s reclining, foot propped up on all the pillows the bus has to offer him. He urges Spencer to go into town and do as he pleases; he’d be fine staying here, he wasn’t a child and definitely didn’t need a babysitter.   
  
Spencer looks unconvinced, but he leaves anyway, with Ian. Dallon stays behind and joins Brendon on the couch after turning on the TV, clicking through the limited channels with little interest.   
  
Brendon watches Dallon quietly, stare lingering on his hands and wrists.   
  
If he asks, Brendon could blame the pain medication.   
  
Dallon catches him, raising an eyebrow.   
  
“Find anything interesting to watch?”   
  
“How do you feel about Jurassic Park?”   
  
Brendon grins.   
  
“Perfect date movie. Now how do you expect us to snuggle when the scary parts happen if you’re all the way over there?”   
  
Dallon laughs aloud, and Brendon lifts his arm for Dallon to slide in next to him, one arm wrapping around his midsection. He’d seen this movie plenty of times, but he always jumps at the velociraptors.   
  
“Scared?” Dallon teases, arm holding tight, pulling him against his chest.   
  
He can smell Dallon’s shampoo and it’s comforting.   
  
\--  
  
They finally end up in a hotel room for a night, Dallon jogging in first to claim the comfier bed. But upon throwing his shoulder into the door and bursting in, he discovers the lack of beds to choose from.   
  
“I can call downstairs for a cot,” Brendon offers, but Dallon is already shaking his head.   
  
“It’s fine, it’s late and the bed’s huge. Let’s just go to sleep.”   
  
They crawl into the bed together, all aching limbs and tired eyes, and Dallon sticks to his side, facing Brendon’s back, able to see the faint outline of his shoulder in the dark.   
  
“Goodnight,” Brendon mumbles, reaching a hand back to wave it around. Dallon catches it, pressing Brendon’s calloused fingertips to his lips.   
  
“Goodnight.”   
  
\--  
  
Brendon wakes up first to the sound of his phone buzzing, the sun slipping in through the blinds and onto the bed. He tries to slide over to silence his phone, but finds himself half caught underneath Dallon, one palm flat over his hipbone.   
  
He’s not surprised, but at the same time, he can’t seem to be upset about it, either. Dallon was warm and familiar, and it wasn’t like Brendon has never spooned with a guy before, either.   
  
Just not Dallon.  
  
“Good morning, sunshine,” Brendon drawls out, pressing his nose against Dallon’s hair, kissing him on the cheek. Dallon’s hand tightens for a split second before he lets go, opening his eyes and groaning.   
  
“Sorry about that,” he yawns. “Morning.”   
  
Brendon notices the soft, fond look Dallon gives him, and for the rest of the day, he can’t get it out of his head.   
  
\--  
  
“You’re going to break his heart.”   
  
It wasn’t a question. Dallon swallows, hoping the tight feeling in his chest will go away.   
  
It doesn’t disappear, and neither does Spencer.   
  
“I’m not trying to—“  
  
“I know, just. Don’t hurt him. Please.”   
  
Dallon does try his best. He really, really does.  
  
---  
  



End file.
